


Armed and Dangerous

by fencingfox



Series: This October Night [13]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU, F/M, Fictober 2019, Hands, Inktober 2019, Kinktober 2019, Lost in Translation, Universal Translator, Whumptober 2019, where they meet at the Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: His disarming smile. A bag of chocolates. Stacks of PADDs. These are things that comfort B'Elanna.





	Armed and Dangerous

* * *

**| "I never knew it could be this way." | adrenaline | hands | ash |**

* * *

_"Try it on. See how you like it." He seems especially attune to her. When they first arrived, he took her to a jacket store and schooled her on the right kind of jacket to get. She thought that would be the end of it but they soon began drifting from warm clothing shop to warm clothing shop. She'd tried not to touch anything and been successful until now._

_It's a knitted scarf and hat, but they both have an inside lining. On the scarf it looks like it's knitting, lining, knitting. On the hat, the outside is knitted and the inside has a cloth lining. It's also a long hat. On display, the rim is folded up so she can see the brown lining against the red knit. She thinks it's the same color as her hair. She tries both on but the price on the pedestal gives her pause._

_"It's too expensive," she explains as she sets everything back. The jacket had already been 1000 credits, five times what she'd make in a week. Her mind drifts to how she'll repay Tom and she blushes. But then she reminds herself that his roommate, William, is definitely gay. Maybe Tom is the same. It was certainly odd that he hadn't handed her any pick-up lines to throw down yet. Tom shrugs and picks up the hat and scarf. He walks them to the counter. B'Elanna thinks that maybe he's being so brusque because he's tired of spending time with her. It makes her chest tight for no good reason._

_"Did you forget you're half-Klingon?" She's about to snap 'of course not,' but he continues before she can get the words out. "These will be warm. Anything cheaper won't be warm enough for you." He smiles the disarming smile B'Elanna recognizes and despises for its effect on her. He pays for the scarf and hat, making idle conversation with the cashier while B'Elanna smiles awkwardly. She wonders what the cashier thinks of them. He walks with her out of the store, carrying all of the bags. "Hot chocolate?"_

_"What's that?" They fall into step as they cross the bright plaza. There's a beautiful, simple water fountain ahead of them. It catches B'Elanna's eye as they walk._

_"You've never had hot chocolate?" B'Elanna shakes her head. "No wonder you're so cold-blooded."_

_"No, that's because I'm half-Klingon remember?" She teases as she hops onto the curb around the fountain. It's far enough away that it isn't slippery. She walks the length of it with her arms at her side for as long as she can before hopping off. She's pleased with her balance. Tom chuckles—the sound might be more disarming than his smile—and leads them to a brown and cream café. Her fear of him getting tired of her dissipates in the steam of the liquid behind the counter. He quickly orders two of the same drink: milk chocolate melted into warm milk with honey and foam. She butts in front of him at the cashier and swipes her card. He's spent enough on her today. They find a seat and drink carefully. B'Elanna's impressed by the smoothness. She'd thought it would turn out chucky for having actual chocolate melted into it._

_"Study night tomorrow?" B'Elanna eyes him warily over the top of her hot chocolate. "Don't worry," his disarming smile returns. She comically wonders if he has a permit for this concealed carry of his. "William will be there. And his boyfriend. Though they promised me we wouldn't get sex-iled, nor would they get up to any funny business."_

_"Sex-iled?" The foreign sounds fall from her mouth like sharp rocks. Her translator gave her the Standard directly so she has no choice but to repeat it back in Standard. Seems Spanish doesn't have a similar word. Tom shrugs and takes a sip of his hot chocolate._

_"You know, when your roommate asks you to make yourself scarce for a few hours so they can get it on with their boyfriend or girlfriend or what have them." She blushes._

_"Oh." She's never had sex. Never wanted to really, but now she wished she had so that she wouldn't be so flustered. "He do that often?" She takes a sip of her hot chocolate to hide her discomfort. It goes down smooth and warms her body._

_"Sex-ile? Yeah. Like four times this week. I suspect he'd meant to do it again today but I told him enough's enough. He's gotta give me a chance to sex-ile him." B'Elanna's neck prickles. Is that what this is about? Is that what it's always been about? He just wants to have sex? Was her mother right about humans? It's starting to look that way. Even though she was wishing she'd gotten it over with just a moment ago, now she's going to tear into Tom for his honesty._

_"Anyone in particular?" Okay, she can give him the benefit of the doubt...for now. He's a senior after all. He probably has a girlfriend...or a boyfriend. She's still not sure either way. That his roommate has a boyfriend already suggests that he's not gay, but she's never had any practice at reading this sort of thing._

_"N-no. No one." He isn't fooling her, but she thinks it would be inconsiderate to ditch him now. He spent over 1500 credits on her today. "So....Do you want to help me study for my quantum midterm?" She sighs. She has to pay him back somehow._

_"I guess. But you have to help me study for my prime directive one."_

_"Deal."_

B'Elanna looks around her room. She almost has everything she needs: hat, scarf, jacket, backpack.... Her eyes alight on her desk in the corner. Her bag of chocolates are there. They're an Earth brand she hadn't tried before today. Her roommate suggested them when she off-handedly mentioned that she liked to eat chocolates when she worked. Back home there was this brand that made big bags of flat, round chocolates that were perfect. She hadn't found them here. These aren't round and flat. They are shaped like drops of rain frozen mid-splash. She lets her door close with a loud slam that never ceases to startle her as she returns to her desk to retrieve the bag of 'Kisses'. 

B'Elanna steps outside into the chill air. Her face is the only part of her that actually feels cold, and only her cheeks and eyes at that. The sky is dark and heavy with night clouds. They pass the twinkling stars to hide them from view. B'Elanna can't make out any constellations yet. The stars aren't familiar. Even if they were, she suspects the clouds would make it difficult to see the pictures of the past overhead. She steps quickly across the street to Tom's dorm. She gets into the elevator alone and starts unbundling herself as it drives up to the fourth floor. She unzips her jacket, loosens her scarf, pulls her hat off her head, and smooths her hair self-consciously. 

Tom greets her at the door. His eyes are weary when he first answers but they perk up upon seeing her. She glances inside the room and is surprised to see Ricardo laying flat on William's bed and reading with his calves across William's thighs. She steps inside, notes that Tom's bed isn't covered in homework this time, but still goes to the beanbag. She settles her bag in front of her. 

"Hey Ricardo." Ricardo looks up at the familiar, but out of place, voice. She hadn't started working yet and hasn't seen him since the interview. She has an idea now for how much time she can give. Ricardo laughs. 

"You know Tom?" She gives him a puzzled look as she unpacks her bag. The candy goes on her left, the old homework and note PADDs go in front of her, and her book PADD goes on her right on top of her backpack. She hears Tom settle on his bed to her left. He's on his belly with his head near hers and a PADD in his hand. He seems to be trying very hard not to be seen. 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Just that he's the pilot to...oh...about _half_ of the shuttles you'll have to fix." B'Elanna looks up at Tom in surprise. He answers with a sheepish smile and a shrug. 

"Ricardo's exaggerating. I'm innocent." Ricardo chuffs as he goes back to reading. 

"That's not what the other engineers are saying." So she is going to be seeing a lot of Tom this year. The thought makes her heart pump faster with newfound adrenaline. 

"What do you think of this?" Tom offers B'Elanna his PADD. The equation isn't simplified so it takes her a moment to see the important pieces. The way he has it, his units will yield an extra second in the denominator. 

"You missed a division somewhere. There's going to be an extra second in the denominator." Tom mumbles to himself as he takes the PADD and carefully copies it down from the beginning on another one. B'Elanna orders her notes and starts making flashcards on another PADD. Most of the prime directive class is memorization. The professor said that there will be several true/false questions on whether the given scenario violates the prime directive, a section of multiple choice on the facts of historical prime directive situations, and a short writing section where they will be asked to respond to the given scenario according to the prime directive. 

She doesn't actually need Tom's help to study but she didn't want to clue him in to the fact that she'll try to repay him back at the café. It's just as well that she doesn't need his help. Asking for help wouldn't do much by way of repaying him. While she's writing, she mentally calculates how many quantum problems she has to help him with to pay off her debt. She bases it on her hourly wage at St. Mary's and assumes three problems an hour. It comes out to 225 problems. That's probably his whole semester if not more. 

B'Elanna frowns and returns her full attention to her flashcards. She rummages into the bag of chocolates, pulls one out, unwraps it, and pops it into her mouth. It melts on her tongue, a reward for staying focused. She toils away that way for thirty minutes before she remembers that she should take a break to retain the information. She looks up. 

Tom is still working on his problem. He crosses out a few lines in frustration. B'Elanna feels bad for him. Quantum is no walk in the park and it doesn't lend itself to memorization like the prime directive class. She fishes out some candy before kneeling at the edge of his bed. 

"Want some Kisses?" He looks up, surprised. She writes that off as her breaking his intense focus. It's surprising that he can be so focused to say the least. 

"You sure?" Why wouldn't she? She has another bag in her room. 

"Yeah." Tom looks over her head at William. 

"You mind?" 

"Nah, go for it," William answers. Why would he care? Is he allergic? She should have asked before bringing food here. B'Elanna draws up her hand to offer the Kisses to him, but before her wrist is level with the bed, Tom leans forward and kisses her. On the mouth! Her eyes are open and she stumbles backward, falling on her butt and heels. He looks dumbfounded. 

"What do you think you're doing, Paris?" He looks hurt at her using his last name. She stands, drops the candies on his bed—he can have his _Kisses_—and storms out of their room. She doesn't know where she's going, just that she needs space. She'll have to return eventually. She can brave the cold long enough to go back to her room. She'll get her PADDs and backpack tomorrow sometime. She'll just have to do it when Tom isn't there. The cold air assaults her like Tom had and she's blown away by the thought. Assault? No. He'd just kissed her, and barely at that. She sprints to her dorm with her arms crossed over her and quickly makes her way into her warm room. 

**=/\=**

"Wait, I'm confused." Ricardo looks up from his novel PADD. He certainly looks confused. "What just happened?" 

"Tom kissed B'Elanna. She got mad." William shrugs. He looks apathetic. "But didn't she ask if you wanted kisses?" He directs the last to Tom. Tom sits in his bed and picks up the silver drops B'Elanna let fall to his bed before leaving. She'd abandoned all of her things here, including her warm clothes. Tom turns the candy in his hand and recognizes it. He checks the little paper at the top to be absolutely sure. He laughs. They're _Kisses_. 

"She asked if I wanted _candy_ Kisses. And I kissed her instead." 

"Oops," Ricardo comments. 

"Maybe you should check on her?" William eyes the pile of items B'Elanna left on or around the oversized beanbag. The impression of her body is still embedded in it. "Or bring back her stuff." Tom unwraps the chocolate and crumples the wrapper in his hand before dropping it to the floor. He isn't in the mood to care. 

"I don't think she wants to see me," he grumbles. But he very much wants to see her. Her lips were soft, for the brief time they'd connected with his. He wants to get to the point where she'd be happy to kiss him. But he has no idea how that's possible now. Explaining himself to her now will probably make things worse. He'll have to admit that he'd wanted to kiss her since the time he offered her his jacket. He'd almost admitted as much at the mall yesterday. She has some sort of pull on him. Something he can't explain. It's almost like destiny or fate or divine intervention—he doesn't know and doesn't care—wants them together. At least that's how he feels. The chocolate melts down his throat. He savors the lingering sweetness. It reminds him of B'Elanna somehow. She's all fire and sweet and smart all in one. 

"You don't know that. She's Klingon—" 

"Half," Tom corrects William. 

"Still, maybe she wants you to chase her." William could be right, but Tom can't see how right now. Klingons usually fight directly when they like someone. They don't play hard to get. 

"I doubt it." 

"Worth a shot though. What's the worst that could happen?" 

"She could sabotage one of your shuttles," Ricardo helpfully replies. That's an uncomfortable thought. How would she do it? Fatal circuitry short? Aggressive life support? William slaps Ricardo's leg and shushes him. 

"We're trying to be encouraging," he hisses, but Tom notes he sounds amused anyway. Tom sighs. He slides to a seated position at the edge of his bed and starts placing her things in her backpack: PADDs, jacket, scarf, hat, candy. He deposits the candy on his bed into the bag of candy and zips the backpack up. 

"Wish me luck." They do. 

"Break a leg," Ricardo adds mischievously. He just might. Tom doesn't bother with his jacket as he hefts the bag over his shoulder and exits. He isn't going very far and it isn't that cold, not to him anyway. When he steps inside her dorm, he realizes he has no clue where she lives inside it. He wonders to himself where that information might be while he wanders around the living room of the first floor. People are studying quietly. 

"Excuse me, can anyone tell me where B'Elanna Torres lives?" It strikes him that maybe the freshman don't know each other's names yet. "She's half-Klingon?" A blond woman perks up from a couch. She'd sat up a little at the name, but Tom had put it down to him yelling across the room. Tom notes that she's remarkably pretty. If he wasn't already pining after B'Elanna, he'd have been all over her. That's how he knows he has it bad. 

"I'm her roommate." She appraises him as he walks closer so they can have a civilized conversation. "Who are you?" 

"A friend." 

"I didn't think B'Elanna had any friends." That upsets Tom because he definitely considers her his friend. Tom straightens his back. 

"Well, she does," he says a little too firmly. B'Elanna's roommate narrows her eyes. Tom remembers that he's trying to get information from her and smiles softly. "She left her backpack in my room. I just want to return it." The roommate looks at the bag on his back. She nods. 

"Room 323." Tom smiles before he turns to leave. 

"Thanks." The elevator ride is short to the third floor, but perhaps that's because he's used to the ride to the fourth floor. Before he knocks on her door, he has an idea and kneels with her bag in front of him. He fishes out a few Kisses, closes the bag, and puts it back on. He rings the chime. 

"It's open." Obviously she isn't expecting him. She wouldn't let him in so easily after what he'd done. Tom hesitates to go inside. "I said, it's open!" She says a little louder. Tom opens the door and steps inside before she can shoo him away. She's sitting at her desk facing away from him. A thin tendril of smoke rises from the corner of her desk bookshelf. He watches as B'Elanna reaches up and taps the edge of the wooden plate the incense stick is mounted on. A few pieces of ash fall down. 

"Hi." He sees her actually freeze. He doesn't move. He really doesn't want any broken bones. 

"What do you want?" She growls, an honest-to-god growl. He wonders if that's a Klingon thing. 

"I came to return your _Kisses_." That disarms her some and Tom breaths a sigh of relief. She pivots in her chair, stands, and takes the candy from his open hand while barely touching him. He shrugs off her backpack and offers it to her with one hand. She gingerly takes it, careful—he notes—not to brush hands with him at all. He'd love to brush hands with her again. Hold hers if she'd allow it. B'Elanna sets the bag next to her desk and hesitates. 

"Thank you." She doesn't dismiss him, but Tom doesn't feel like he's welcome anymore. 

"Sorry," he blurts out, "for kissing you. I thought—" 

"I know what you thought." Her tone is terse. "I should have been more clear." Her back is to him still. She sits down. He wants to see her face. Somehow his apology doesn't mean anything if he can't see her reaction. He goes to sit on the edge of the bed closest to B'Elanna's desk, figuring it must be hers as well. 

"What's that?" Tom points at the incense. It seems like a good time to change the subject. 

"Klingon incense." He wrinkles his nose, but B'Elanna doesn't look up to see it. 

"I didn't know Klingons used incense." 

"It calms the nerves and fortifies the spirit," she recites like it's by rote. She sighs and leans back in her chair. Tom thinks she must be debating something by her expression. It's almost pained. He wants to remove her pain. He marks the thought as melodramatic and dismisses it. 

"I've kissed only three people my entire life." She's being vulnerable with him he realizes with a start. He didn't know she trusts him like this. 

"What number am I?" He teases, hoping it will diffuse her uneasiness and his own. She smirks and looks at him sideways. 

"Third, hotshot." He likes the nickname. 

"Well, third's the charm." 

"It might be." She doesn't offer more than that verbally. Yet, her expression is that of someone who wants to be kissed but doesn't know how to ask. For a moment he isn't sure how to answer. Then he remembers. He's human; he has _hands_. Wonderful hands. He raises his right hand to her cheek and brushes her hair back. She doesn't flinch. She doesn't swear. She doesn't growl. Though, Tom realizes, from a half-Klingon, growling now might be a good thing. He moves his face closer slowly, giving her time to leave if she changes her mind. The entire time, his adrenaline is telling him to move faster; go for the kill before it escapes him. He won't let that drive him. She closes her eyes and he does the same just before their lips touch. 

She's kissing back this time and it's glorious. He wants her closer but chastises himself. If she's only kissed three people, she's probably not done much beyond that. He doesn't want to scare her. Instead, he places his left hand on her waist. To his surprise, she slides out of her chair and settles into Tom's lap without breaking their kiss for longer than a few seconds. She doesn't even open her eyes when she does it. He scoots forward on the edge of the bed to give her legs room. Tom holds her close by her waist and back selfishly. She has to pull him away by holding his head and moving hers back a little. But she rests her nose and forehead on his. He likes the sharpness of her ridges. They're uniquely hers. He wonders idly if Klingon ridges are like fingerprints or lip lines: no print matches another's. 

"This was...." She's breathless. "I never knew it could be this way."


End file.
